A week later

At this time a week ago I was quietly crying on the shoulder of the man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. For reasons that seemed a bit contrived, he ended what was the most loving, fun, honest, adult relationship I’ve ever had; probably either of us ever had. I dared to live every day filled with the joy that the universe had finally given me a break. As it turns out, the universe wasn’t quite so benevolent; the great cosmic joke of giving me what I had always wanted but never dared to think I deserved turned out to be just that—Oops, we made a mistake, you don’t deserve this happiness, what were we thinking! This man will now take back every promise he ever made, every plan he ever offered up to you. Sorry… better luck next time.

So as he rushed to leave, crossing the proverbial and literal threshold, I asked him to wait, just for a minute. He stopped at the doorway. I put my arms around him, and said nothing. I didn’t really mean to cry, it just happened, quietly, for only a few seconds. He held me, but when I looked up at him, he couldn’t quite reciprocate; he stared straight ahead.
“We had such great plans,” I said, looking at him. I even smiled. To my surprise, he did respond to that.
“Yeah, we did.” He held on another moment, then let me go.
“I have to go.”
And he did.
About 20 minutes later, I jumped, startled at the sound my phone makes for his texts only.

I AM SORRY. You deserve better than me.

Maybe I do. But where would I even begin to look.

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